


Cappuccinos and Confusion

by race-jackson (Race_Jackson23)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Coffee Shops, F/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, will tag as i add more chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-14 23:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14147274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Race_Jackson23/pseuds/race-jackson
Summary: The advice his mother gave him stuck.“When you meet your soulmate … it will be one of the most important moments of your life. You’ll never forget it.”Steve’s problem? He never remembered meeting his soulmate in the first place.alternatively: that soulmate au set in a coffee shop that's turning out to be much longer than anticipated because steve and darcy both didnt realise that they were saying each other's words





	1. Steve Rogers Doesn't Know How To Use A Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> It's another one!

When Sarah Rogers first told her son of soulmate marks, there was no way she could have known how the situation would go. Or that, sickly as he was, he would even get a mark in the first place. He knew that, logically, instinctively, even as she was telling him.

But despite that, despite knowing that it probably would never apply to him, her advice stuck itself in his brain like super glue, unable to be dislodged.

_“When you meet your soulmate … it will be one of the most important moments of your life. You’ll never forget it.”_

Steve’s problem? He never remembered meeting his soulmate in the first place.

So in a way, it didn’t apply to him.

~

It was a ~~Tuesday~~ ~~Wednesday~~ ~~no, Thursday~~ weekday morning when they said each other’s words. It was also a ~~Tuesday~~ ~~Wednesday~~ ~~no, Thursday~~ weekday morning when he completely failed to realise that the words had been exchanged.

Two days later, a line of black writing on his back caught his eye in the mirror as he was changing his shirt. He blinked. Then, rubbing his skin as if to wipe the writing away, to no avail, he blinked again.

 _Double espresso for Steve?_ it read in curling script.

That triggered something in his brain, an elusive thought almost like a memory, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe he’d overheard it somewhere? Had someone said that to him recently? Had he even had a “double espresso” since being defrosted?

Then it dawned on him.

There was a little café in the lobby of Avengers Tower (as Tony had insisted they call it since last year’s alien attack) that he’d visited a few weeks before with Natasha. He vaguely remembered whining about how hard it was to choose a drink upon being confronted with the menu board behind the counter. At Tasha’s recommendation, when she had stopped giving him an unimpressed eye raise, he’d asked for a “double espresso”. What he’d gotten was an awful drink that reminded him far too much of the forties that he’d had to swap it for Tasha’s cappuccino.

The barista might have called out the words written on his skin. _Might_ being the imperative word there, considering he didn’t remember it. Or them. His soulmate. Who he may or may not have met.

So in the disaster that was that realisation, Steve knew there was only one thing he could do.

~

“Double espresso for Steve?”

Stomach swooping terrible, he headed for the counter. The barista calling names – “Darcy,” she had corrected with a wink, “not ma’am.” – grinned at him, handing over the to-go cup with a flourish, and his insides did another jumping jack.

“Thanks,” he said, inclining his head in her direction.

He hoped that his ears hadn’t gone red as they tended to do around her, but by the way her grin grew bigger, he wasn’t expecting much.

“No problemo, Cap.”

Shuffling over to his usual table at the back of the café, he threw himself and his sketch pad into the chair and went back to his drawings. He tried to conceal his grimace as he sipped his coffee. No matter how many times he drank it, double espresso never tasted any better, and that time was no exception.

Since the meeting-that-wasn’t-really-a-meeting-with-his-soulmate, Steve had found himself drawn to the café. At first, it had been curiosity. Were they there? Could he recognise any voices? He kept ordering shitty double espressos in the hope that maybe, just maybe, he would find them. But after a whole lot of nothing, he began to realise that he actually liked the place. Its ambience, the plush armchairs, the fun but no-nonsense staff – it was all very comforting.

Sketchbook in hand, Steve found himself visiting every day by that point, six weeks since the meeting-that-wasn’t. Ordered a drink at the counter, got a cheery hello from one of the quieter girls or a cheeky wink from Darcy (and subsequent reddening ears) – it was all routine. He’d taken to sitting in that spot, watching people as they came and went with not a thought to the man sitting in the corner drinking his coffee.

It was refreshing, and he was utterly captivated by it all. As creepy as it was, he found himself capturing those moments in his sketch pad, a fact that didn’t seem to be lost on the staff but who didn’t appear to mind.

The sketch of a harried businesswoman was half-done when a familiar voice piped up, “Wha’cha got there, Cap?”

Darcy had wandered over, holding a takeaway tray with two cups. To his surprise, she took the seat opposite him and started unloading the tray, taking one to drink and leaving the other in front of him. She laughed at the agog look on his face.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you hate drinking double espresso,” she grinned. She jerked her chin at his new drink. “Caramel cappuccino. It’s got a sweeter taste to it, but then, I’ve seen you with the brownies, so it’s not like that will turn you off.”

As something warm begged at his chest, gingerly, he picked up the cup but didn’t drink out of it. His brain was too busy trying to compute that Darcy was sitting in front of him.

It wasn’t as if they hadn’t spoken before, to the contrary. They chatted quite often while he waited for his drinks, and had even said hi the few times they’d seen each other outside the café. From that, he knew she had gone back to college to start her Master’s degree in international relations with a full scholarship through Stark Industries, and that she’d managed to snag an apartment and the café job through a friend. And she knew that he was Captain America, but they spoke more about art supplies than that.

But she had never actually sat with him.

He liked her a lot. Like, _liked_ her. The fact that he liked her yet also had a soulmate that worked at the café too had been a source of consternation for _quite_ some time. At one point, he even imagined that _Darcy_ was his soulmate, but she was the kind of person to not keep quiet about something like that, and so he quietly concluded that she wasn’t.

Still, soulmate or not, he enjoyed her company. So he regarded her for a moment longer and then – _fuck it._

“Thank you?” he said, going for a sip of the new coffee.

And promptly lost his mind, because it was _amazing_. Every sip was _divine_. Darcy had been alright about it being sweet, but she was also right about him having a sweet tooth, and that sweet tooth loved every drop of that drink. Soon – far, far too soon – he was looking down at the empty cup in his hands.

“You know,” chirped Darcy, and Steve’s attention was drawn to the knowing smirk on her face, “we do mugs if you wanna stay longer. How about we get some and those brownies you like so much tomorrow after my shift ends?”

Steve figured that if the universe had no problem putting him in the ice for seventy years, it could damn send him a sign about his soulmate. And until then…

“Sure, I’d love to.”

… he had a date to get to.


	2. A View Into Darcy's Thirsting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG what? A chapter less than a week later? What is happening??

The problem with being born with the soulmark “Thanks!” was that, by the time Darcy Lewis actually met her soulmate, she’d become almost completely desensitised to the word.

People said it when others held the door open for them. Or when they were passed handouts in class by fellow classmates. Or when retrieving their coffee orders from baristas. One could only hear it used so many times before becoming numb to it, both as a word and as a concept.

On the day she met her soulmate, though, she was strangely aware of people using it. As if some part of her knew that something was about to happen, she couldn’t help but track it through her day. She counted five ladies and three guys before the beefcake she’d seen wandering around the Tower walked in with Black Widow ( _Black Widow!!!_ ) at his side. And when he said it too, mumbled softly as he retrieved his drink, Darcy felt as if her heart would beat of her chest with excitement.

Was this it? Was this the moment she met her soulmate? Would their eyes meet in an exchange that spoke volumes while saying nothing, their hearts bound forever, souls perfectly matched? Was thi–?

Until that excitement was promptly snuffed out.

Because Steve Rogers – beautiful, just, leader-of-the-Avengers, Captain America – had only turned and walked away, showing absolutely no sign that he recognised Darcy or her words as he re-joined Black Widow and left.

She couldn’t help but deflate slightly. Rogers was _hot_ , and a girl could dream. Too bad that’s all it would ever be.

~

As the weeks went on, however, Darcy became fairly certain that Rogers was nothing more than a fiend the universe sent to punish her. What for, she wasn’t exactly sure, but it was the only explanation that made any sense given the circumstances.

He kept coming back. There was a period of about two weeks where he was nowhere to be seen before he started turning up _literally every day_. That first day, he looked so confused about what he wanted that Darcy took pity and offered a few suggestions.

“You could get a double espresso?” she said in the face of his confusion. “Like you did last time.”

Something in his face cleared and he nodded, “Sure.”

And from then on, that was all he ordered. Darcy wasn’t sure if he didn’t vary it because he didn’t know any other drinks, or if he was genuinely too anxious to order anything else, but her theory that he was not a fan of espresso solidified when he made a grossed out face _literally every time he drank it_. As amused as she was – and that grossed out face _was_ as cute as the rest of him – her soul couldn’t help but scream every time he downed one. But even when offered something else, in spite of his disgust for them, all he ordered was double espressos.

If that wasn’t infuriating enough, not only did he obviously feel obligated to torture Darcy through badly chosen caffeinated drinks, but he also seemed compelled to talk to her(???). As if her ovaries weren’t in enough _agony_ seeing (but not touching) that perfect bod each day. He started out small, just little compliments here and there in the face of her tame ~~thirsting~~ flirting, before it developed into fully-fledged conversations over the counter as other customers watched on impatiently.

“Wait, so you’re doing your Masters?”

The incredulity in his voice would have been offensive if she hadn’t seen the wonder in his eyes, which abruptly reminded her of the time period Steve had been born in. When he was growing up, that sort of thing probably didn’t happen regularly, and especially not for women.

“Yeah,” she replied, leaning against the counter with her head propped on her fists. “In IR. It’s hard to get into the field without further qualifications, and since I kind of never really got around to interning either, I don’t exactly have good networks.”

He looked impressed nonetheless.

“You must be really smart to get into that program, though, and this job,” he said. Inclining his to-go cup at her, he continued, “I certainly wouldn’t be able to handle both at the same time.”

A small smile starting at the corner of her mouth, she had to turn back to the coffee machine to calm down the blush she felt spreading across her cheeks. She felt a little better about it when she spied the red tips of Steve’s ears, but only a bit. Darcy wasn’t a blushy person. She was a loud, brash, out-spoken person who certainly did not blush upon having developed a crush, and if she’d ever had, she’d trained herself out of it in middle school.

The blushing around Steve? Not cool in the extreme.

Still, it continued. Darcy would flirt as Steve retrieved his coffee from her of a morning. He would say something sweet or complimentary back and she’d blush, and then he’d blush, and then both of them would go quiet in a way that wasn’t quite uncomfortable and yet totally embarrassing. Over and over again, predictable almost to a tee – as predictable as Steve’s terrible coffee order.

Until Darcy did something about it.

~

“What’cha got there, Cap?” said Darcy by way of greeting.

The blond looked up, expression clouded in confusion until his eyes met hers and it melted away. He grinned, nodding at his sketchbook laid before him on the table, and Darcy took the opportunity to sit down opposite him, unloading her tray of coffee. The surprise on his face as she distributed him one made her laugh.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you hate drinking double espresso,” she grinned, jerking her chin at his new drink to tell him to drink it. “Caramel cappuccino. It’s got a sweeter taste to it, but then, I’ve seen you with the brownies, so it’s not like that will turn you off.”

The brownies had indeed been happily consumed. Her boss had never seen someone eat a brownie so quickly.

Steve regarded her a moment, that confusion still present until he shrugged and said, “Thank you?” while taking a sip of the cappuccino.

And lost his shit. Darcy swore she literally could pinpoint the moment when he realised how shitty the coffee he’d been drinking the whole time truly was; the moment when his eyes widened and looked down at the cup as if he couldn’t bring himself to look away. Though she was loath to do so, she waited until he’d downed it all and was making longing goo-goo eyes at the cup to pipe up.

“You know, we do mugs, if you wanna stay longer. How about we get some and those brownies you like so much tomorrow after my shift ends?”

No longer fixed on the empty coffee cup, he turned to look at her with his mouth slightly agape. He appeared to be calculating something, and then his mouth snapped shut and he straightened his shoulders

( ~~Visibly, she might add. It emphasised the Dorito-like shoulder-to-waist ratio that he had going on, which was a serious turn on for her.~~ )

“Sure, I’d love to,” he said finally.

Darcy would have liked it better if he didn’t look like he was preparing to march into a war zone when he said that, but she’d take what she could get. She got up and collected his empty cup, sending him a wink when he startled.

“Great! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

And that was the beginning of Darcy’s relationship with her soulmate.

Not that she knew that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is happening is that I'm procrastinating my assignment for crim and writing this instead. I am dumb, obviously. 
> 
> Anyway! We got a new look into how Darcy felt in the last chapter. She clearly remembered more than Steve, so any bets how she's going to react in the next chapter when they both realise they're soulmates? Any bets on the angst before that?
> 
> Let me know if you liked by leaving a comment or kudos. As always, I'm @race-jackson on tumblr, come join me for Thor stanning and general tomfoolery.


	3. In Which Darcy Realises How Dumb Steve Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is really dumb and Darcy angsts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for it being late! I moved and had ongoing internet issues!

Having an allergic reaction to the shellfish in her dinner and being carted off to hospital wasn’t _exactly_ how Darcy had planned for their first real date to go. With her history, though, she was just glad there weren’t any aliens.

“I’m so sorry,” she said later when Steve dropped by her and Jane’s apartment with a movie and pack of cards in hand. She waved him over to sit down next to her little nest on the couch, and he did so gingerly. “I didn’t realise they used crab in it.”

“That’s ok,” he said softly.

Still weak from the night before, it had been near-impossible for her to get up to open the door. She’d spent a good minute trying but, luckily, J.A.R.V.I.S. was on the ball and let the super soldier in before he thought she was ignoring him. Not that Steve would ever accuse her of that.

He looked quite awkward sitting there. As if he wasn’t sure what to do or say, he held up the movie uncertainly, and Darcy was able to see the title splayed across the front: _Brave_.

Her eyes misted involuntarily. Of all the movies they’d spoken about, that was the one she’d been actually begging him to watch because she knew he’d enjoy it so much. The animation was a wet dream for an artist like Steve. The fact that Steve had remembered … was probably not tears-worthy, but hey, she _was_ sick.

“You remembered,” she murmured, her voice an embarrassing almost-sigh.

Steve chuckled, “Well, you keep yelling at me to watch it. Thought that, maybe, while you’re stuck up here, we could do it together?”

Darcy smiled.

“I’d like that.”

And so, while their first official date was a total travesty, the unofficial one they enjoyed the next day was absolutely perfect.

~

Unfortunately, the one after was not, in any way, perfect. It had less to do with allergic reactions, though, and more to do with alien invasions.

(Invasion was probably too strong a word. It was more of a scouting party than full-fledged invasion. Still, it counted.)

“I’m so sorry,” said Steve when the team’s assemble tone blared over his phone, disrupting the other patrons of the classy restaurant Stark had hooked them up with. He gestured at the cell, seemingly caught between remaining seated and jumping into action, and it was only as Darcy nodded for him to go that he leapt out of his seat. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Making it up to her, it turned out, included a ride on the Ferris Wheel at Coney Island and corndogs while they strolled along the beach together. A small town girl from Ohio through and through, it wasn’t unlike any other fete or carnival she’d been to, but it held a charm about it she’d never experienced. And when Steve pressed a kiss to her lips at the very top of the wheel, sunlight glinting in his eyes, she felt as if her heart would beat out of her chest with excitement.

That was the moment Darcy Lewis knew that she’d be Steve Rogers’ forever.

Soulmate be damned.

~

Or perhaps not, as it turned out.

~

After the realisation set in that perhaps hole-in-the-wall diners and cheap street food were more their speed, Steve and Darcy’s dating game picked up exponentially. Dates three through to seven were spent picnicking at parks and listening to live music in bars and visiting the museum. There was even a really strange afternoon of Steve watching her while she was at work, if she counted that as date eight and she did, because most of that shift was spent laughing at his terribly corny jokes while he sketched her in his book.

Sold on great romantic tales since she was old enough to talk, Darcy was a true romantic at heart. Sure, with her words, she was sceptical of ever getting an ending like those on TV, but there was always a little glimmer of hope in her chest that one day, just maybe, she might have _something_.

But with Steve? When she had that _something_? She could never be prepared.

All those expectations flew out of the window. By the tenth date, her chest was so warm and full of happiness that it felt as if it would burst. Those stupid, cliché butterflies swooped in her stomach when he so much as smiled at her, and every moment without him felt just that small bit duller. It felt like everything her mother had ever told her about having a soulmate and more.

So she didn’t feel the least bit guilty about giving up on them.

Soulmates weren’t the be-all and end-all of romantic love, she reminded herself when that little voice in her head protested at the idea of rejecting her other half. Hell, sometimes they weren’t even romantic at all! Darcy’s best friend growing up had been aromantic, and he still had words running down the inside of his arm. As it turned out, his soulmate was already married when they met, and still was to that day!

Hers had to be something like that: a person who she loved deeply, whose soul was a reflection of her own but who she did not feel romantically for. She felt like that for Steve, though, a deep burning passion that was far too consuming to be anything other than fate. She could only conclude the universe had led her there, had let her fall in love with him because their souls, while not perfect halves, cherished one another regardless.

Darcy would never admit that out loud, though. It was all very sappy. Her reputation of chill would be completely ruined.

Only one thing didn’t factor, though, into the little delusion she’d built herself– because she was a romantic, not an idiot, thank you very much – and that was Steve’s feelings on the whole soulmate thing.

If it were up to her, she’d never bring it up. Like, ever. She’d go on her merry way, living life in carefully curated obliviousness. The topic was a landmine for unmatched couples in general, so imagining how it would go when Steve happened to be a biologically enhanced super soldier who’d literally chilled for seventy years and lost everyone as a result (his soulmate probably among them) was kind of mind-blowingly terrifying. Avoidance was key on issues like that, in Darcy’s very unlearned opinion.

But fate was not fond of avoidance. Or Darcy, for that matter.

Which was why Darcy’s whole soulmate thing got thrown out the window.

~

Dinner at Steve’s had become part of Darcy’s Wednesday routine not two months after their first date. After finishing her shift, she’d duck up to his apartment. A bottle of red in hand, she’d knock three times, and he’d be there, his kiss-the-chef apron on and something tasty and full of meat cooking on the stove. For a white guy that had grown up during the Depression, he had a surprisingly good grasp on seasoning his food, and they never had any problems scoffing it down. Then they’d chat for hours, devouring the red and arguing over new TV shows that Steve had started watching, and they’d kiss before, finally, the night drew to a close, an expectant yet never realised air about them. As frustrating as it was, it never failed to warm her heart.

On one such Wednesday, however, Darcy’s carefully constructed bullshit about her soulmate came crashing down around her ears.

It started, same as any other Wednesday, with a peck on the cheek and an invitation to enter. For all that that was the same, though, something had changed in the air between them. There was something between them, a thick anticipation where it had once been fleeting. Eyes lingered far longer than publicly acceptable. Steve’s hand remained just a moment too long on her shoulder as he gestured her to the kitchen where Bolognese sauce bubbled away, leaving her stomach aflutter.

“Spaghetti?” she asked, even though she already knew it was.

Steve nodded. A smile played at his mouth as he stepped back over to the pot of sauce and gave it a stir.

“Haven’t put the pasta in yet if you want to?” he offered, and Darcy nodded, moving over to the other hotplate and flicking it on.

Together, they set about putting dinner together. Not a word passed between them, but the quiet wasn’t uncomfortable – far from it. Moments like those reminded Darcy of why they had yet to take their relationship to the next level. The combination of being comfortable with each other as it was and residual fear that bringing sex into the equation would upset that dynamic was compelling enough to avoid it.

But that would change that night. They had decided that between the heady kisses and wandering hands at dinner the week before. That night was the night where they would finally lose themselves to one another.

And they totally did. Have sex, that is. After the plates had been packed away, and the candles Steve had put out and that Darcy both loved and hated had burned low, and the air itself felt as if it would combust. They stumbled into Steve’s room, and then he was backing into his bed, and then–

But then it got weird.

Darcy had always been a tactile partner. Touching, holding, _kissing_ – she was always all in, always grasping for more. For her, there was nothing like the _after_ , when she’d touch, _trace_ , new eyes and contented hands taking in expanses of soft skin. The calm that came with it was of sentimentality, but she’d not give it up for anything.

Tracing her finger over his shoulder blade, she wasn’t surprised to find the raised edges of a soulmark. She _was_ surprised that she could read it, though, and even more surprised that the phrase rang a bell.

_Double espresso for Steve?_ his mark read in a hand all too familiar to her.

But of course, it was familiar. Everyone knew that only soulmates can read another’s mark, after all.

“What’s this?”

She’d been attempting light curiosity, but that flew out of the window when her voice cracked on the first word. Steve rolled over, sandy eyebrow raised in askance.

“This,” she clarified, tapping at where her handwriting stained his shoulder. She cleared her throat. “What’s this?”

Thanks to his Irish roots, Steve’s blush reached all the way to the tips of his ears. He bolted up into a sitting position. His mouth gaped in what one might mistake for a fish impression, and it might have been a satisfying sight if Darcy hadn’t been hung up on the fact that _Steve was her soulmate and he never told her_.

“You can see that?”

“Yeah, Steve, I can see that,” she snapped. Clutching the bedsheet to her chest, she sat up to stare him down. Steve wilted. “ _Why_ can I see that, Steve?”

“I don’t know!” he shot back desperately. That time, his voice was the one cracking. “I don’t know! I don’t remember you ever saying that!”

“Evidently I did!”

Space between his eyebrows creasing, Steve ignored her, seemingly too focused on thinking back to reply. He said slowly, “Unless you were the first barista?”

“Well duh,” said Darcy, “how else do you think I knew to offer you a stupid fucking double espresso the next time, genius? Are you telling me you literally missed me saying your words?!”

“Well, it’s not like you noticed!”

“I did!” she half-screeched, tone reaching pitches hitherto unexplored in her frustration. “I did and I got my hopes up but then you didn’t react only now I’m finding out that it’s because you literally _did not realise I said it_!”

Steve rubbed his neck. His expression was sheepish, as if he needed to admit something but didn’t particularly _want_ to. Alarm bells went off in Darcy’s head and she cringed in anticipation.

“To be fair on me,” he said, not meeting her eyes as the Kill Bill sirens in her brain got louder, “I did try to figure it out. I mean, I came out of the ice not knowing that I had a soulmate mark so it wasn’t like I missed it on purpose. By the time I found out I had one, I figured that I missed it.”

That softened Darcy somewhat. Unfortunately, Steve followed it up by telling her about how he … dealt with that issue.

“I mean, after we started dating, I figured it just didn’t matter anymore,” he continued after. “I lasted without a soulmate my entire life, and it wasn’t like I was going to give you up just because you weren’t mine, so I just thought… say something?”

If his face was any less sincere, Darcy would have internally combusted. As it was, her brain wasn’t doing all too well as it processed the contradictory internal logic Steve had shared with her.

She cleared her throat.

“You … went to the café everyday … and ordered double espressos … because you thought that it would jog your memory about your soulmate … but you didn’t … and got so caught up in it … that you just kept doing it…?”

Darcy had once theorised that Steve’s blush was far-reaching. It was vindicating to find out she was completely right. His face was positively burning with embarrassment, and, without a shirt on, it was clear to see that his chest was too.

“I mean, when you put it like that.” He rubbed the back of his neck again.

At least Darcy could say that she was right in thinking the universe wanted them together, she supposed. The cruel bitch that was destiny just laughed. Of course, it would be revealed that they were soulmates just when Darcy had come to terms with the fact that they weren't. The universe did have it out for her, after all, and it seemed like it had it out for Steve too. 

“Fuck, how have you survived so long?” Darcy whispered to herself. Despite a confused sound, Steve was completely pliant as she gathered him into her arms. Nuzzling into the juncture of his throat, she muttered, “Worry not, I’ll protect you, you dumb beefcake.”

And so she did, for the rest of their lives together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK FUCK! Excuse the language, but I've literally been wanting to finish this for ages and haven't had the muse. As is, I'm not completely happy with it, but I really wanna get it out of my project line up so that I can move onto my other fics, of which there are many and numerous, and also because I want it out before the hell that is IW comes out, because I know I'll write nothing after that. And I'm contenting myself with the idea that this is just supposed to be a light and happy soulmate AUish thing. 
> 
> So yeah, as usual, lemme know if you liked it by leaving a kudos or a comment. What was your favourite part? Did you like the ending? Are you as into the smols in a relationship holding the tols like I am? Or come talk to me on tumblr, where I'm @race-jackson - we have lots of Thor positivity and general shenanigans. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh, so, this fic is spiralling out of control. I thought I'd do a little cutesy "and then they realised they were meant to be the end" but it felt cheap and I didn't want to do them dirty like that. So it's gonna be three chapters: this one, a Darcy POV and the realisation. Anyway, lemme know if you like by leaving a comment or a kudos!
> 
> Next up on Cappuccinos and Confusion:  
>  _The problem with being born with the soulmark “Thanks!” was that, by the time Darcy Lewis actually met her soulmate, she’d become completely desensitised to the word._  
>  People said it when others held the door open for them. Or when they were passed handouts in class by fellow classmates. Or when retrieving their coffee orders from baristas. One could only hear it used so many times before becoming numb to it, both as a word and as a concept.


End file.
